


I'd give up forever to touch you

by blankiehxrry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Harry, Fingering, Frottage, Needy Harry, Some Fluff, Spanking, Sub Harry, Top Louis, harry sucks his thumb, some smut, xfactor era, young love aww
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankiehxrry/pseuds/blankiehxrry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just your typical xfactor fic with a bit of a twist</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd give up forever to touch you

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually like the first thing I've ever finished in all my sixteen years, because I'm awful at planning things out and I have no patience. But basically, yeah, I'm impressed I managed to prolong my attention span long enough to write this all down. This was born from my frustration that there aren't enough xfactor era fics and my obsession with needy Harry, so. Here we are. If there’s anything that doesn’t match up (ie. dates, times, how xfactor works, other details) I apologize because I either forgot or was too lazy to look it up, so you'll have to use a bit of imagination.

When Harry is sixteen months old he takes his first steps. Anne cries and Gemma claps her hands together, excited at the prospect of getting to order her baby brother around to do whatever she wants him to. The doctor says Harry is a late bloomer but Anne claims he was simply waiting until he knew he wouldn't mess up and fall. Harry laughs a lot and his cheeks are plump with youthful baby fat and he likes to play with his train set and cries whenever a train is knocked off the tracks because he doesn’t like seeing anyone or anything hurt.

 

When Harry is two years old he's starting to grow taller and his rolls of baby fat are now stretched tight over tiny bones and the pudge behind his knees is gone. He's all milky skin and green green eyes and dimples and hair. He's starting to distinguish colors and shapes and he talks but it's slow and thoughtful. Anne insists he'll be a genius and Gemma likes to get him to sneak cookies for her from the jar and Harry likes playing hide and seek because he's still small enough that he can squeeze into tight corners and small spaces so he always wins.

 

When Harry is five he's in school and his favorite part of the day is when the teacher lets them sing the alphabet and he has a few friends that he always plays with at recess. But he's still young and he gets nervous sometimes when Anne drops him off so she lets him take his favorite stuffed animal - a pink fluffy dog named Princess with floppy ears and a tail that's worn down and balding because that's where Harry likes to pet and hold her most - and then he's not so nervous anymore. He sucks his thumb sometimes but the teacher yells when she sees so he only gets to do that at home now.

 

When Harry is nine he's the tallest boy in class and he's all long limbs and has an awful haircut because his mum refuses to take him to a real hairdresser. He understands though because he's older now and he knows money is tight. He tries his best not to complain too much. Gemma doesn't want to be seen with him at school anymore which makes him quite sad but when he comes home after a particularly awful day she lets him come into her room and holds him and pretends she doesn't see the tears and tells him how wonderful he is. His best friend is a boy named Ed who's hair is orange like a sunset but that's not the only reason Harry likes him. He also has a trampoline in his backyard and an orange tree and they spend summer days lying on the nylon and staring up at the clouds while they suck the juice of a particularly ripe orange off their fingers.

 

When Harry is thirteen he's confused. His friends all talk about what girls are the cutest and best dressed and who they would kiss. Harry is confused because his friends are listening to rock bands and playing video games and acting tough and he lies awake at night with Princess' tail clasped tightly between his fingers and humming the Spice Girls because it's secretly always been his dream to be in a girl band. But though he's not sure why he's different he knows he is and he knows he doesn't want to let his friends down so he joins in their conversations about Jennifer from maths and he asks out Sarah when he knows his friends are watching him.

 

Harry is fifteen and he's quite positively sure he likes boys. He cries when he tells his mum but she just smiles and wraps him up in a hug and makes him his favorite dinner and there's even cookies for dessert. Gemma just laughs joyously and pulls him on the couch and they watch a whole season of Britain’s Next Top Model and squeal when the male models join the contestants for a photo shoot. Harry decides that liking boys isn't so bad. Until he confides in his friend Jason and Jason looks at him like he's never seen him before and soon Harry is uninvited to Jason's birthday party and he sits alone at lunch until Ed joins him because Ed never liked Jason much anyway.

 

Now Harry is sixteen and he loves to sing. In the shower, in the car, under his breath in the halls, you name it. Harry sings Lady Gaga and John Mayer and The Script (he saw them at Leeds Fest the previous summer and still gets shivers when he thinks about it.)

 

Harry sings so loud and so often that one morning his mum suggests he try out for XFactor. Rather, he walks downstairs to a plate of eggs and bacon and a flyer advertising the singing competition is sitting next to his plate where he usually puts his napkin. He's hesitant at first because what if they tell him no; Harry's never been one for criticism. "It doesn't matter what anyone else says, you go out and do your best and if they say no, you tell them thank you and you come home and we move on," Anne says firmly. She makes it sound so simple but Harry is easily swayed and he knows it would make his mother happy.

 

So that's how Harry finds himself a long way from his home in Holmes Chapel in a seemingly endless line of sweaty bodies. It's unreal how many people have showed up for their chance at fame and fortune and all the rest. Harry bites his lip and adjusts his unruly mop of curls so it's not falling in his eyes. Anne frets about how he should have let her cut it before they left the house but he shakes her off and stands on his toes, looking for the end of the line. He can't see it from where he stands.

 

"Do you want to practice? You can run through it again." Anne wipes her brow and reaches out to fix Harry's cardigan.

 

"Mum, s'fine. I know the song like the back of my hand. It'll be great, yeah?" He says more for Anne's sake than his own.

 

Honestly Harry isn't all that nervous but Anne is making it difficult for him to not freak out. Nonchalantly he reaches his hand in his pocket and grasps Princess' tail, which had finally fallen off in the wash the week before. Harry's not ashamed to admit that he cried because he's had Princess for as long as he can remember (okay, maybe he's a little ashamed, but she's important to him).

 

"‘m gonna run to the bathroom. Keep our spot?" Harry blurts out, suddenly eager to escape the line. He's always been a bit claustrophobic and there's too many people pressed up against his sides.

 

Anne nods and Harry slips out from the queue. He finds the bathroom just to the left of the double doors leading into the lobby of the theatre.

 

Once the door is shut Harry runs into the first empty stall and throws up his breakfast. He stares down at the murky water before he wipes his mouth and flushes the toilet with shaky hands.

 

After he washes his hands, Harry stands in front of the mirror and stares at his reflection. He sweeps his hair out of his face and into a more presentable looking sideswipe. His green eyes are bloodshot due to lack of sleep and his jaw is sore from being so tense.

 

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a body crashes into him from behind and Harry is slammed into the sink.

 

"Oops!" A voice says in Harry's ear and he nearly leaps out of his skin.

 

"Hi," Harry says, but it's more of a question.

 

"Wow sorry mate, this is awkward. Thought you were someone else." The boy lets Harry go and Harry tries to sort himself out and fix his clothes before he turns around.

 

"Hi," Harry says again, but this time he smiles.

 

Standing in front of him is a wild eyed boy who looks to be close to his own age and he's sporting a fringe even longer than Harry's and tan skin and pants that hug his curvy waist and he scuffs his Toms against the tile floor while Harry appraises him. His jaw is soft and his eyelashes are so long they cast shadows on his high cheekbones that are now tinged pink.

 

"‘S not nice to stare, Curly,” Cute Boy says softly, smiling down at his feet.

 

“Sorry, I just…erm, what’s your name?” Harry curses himself for being awkward. His friends all used to be jealous that he could win over girls so easily. What they didn’t get was that it was easy to talk to someone when you had no romantic interest in them. Now Harry finds himself failing miserably at flirting with Cute Boy in a restroom of all places.

 

“It’s alright. Louis Tomlinson at your service.” Louis Tomlinson holds his hand out and Harry meets him halfway and they shake hands for much longer than they need to. But it’s okay because they’re both smiling like idiots.

 

Harry and Louis part ways after they share a few more words and Louis insists on getting a picture with Harry because “if anyone makes it off this show, it’ll be you, Curly.”

 

And that’s that.

 

Harry returns back to Anne who’s waiting in line and Louis heads off to wherever his parents are waiting. Harry’s thumb itches to be in his mouth, Harry wants nothing more than to curl up and suck his thumb and have a little cry, but he knows he has to be strong now.

 

The rest of the day passes by in a blur. Harry auditions and, miracles of all miracles, he makes it. Simon chats him up about pastries after Harry mentions he works in a bakery, he gets a standing ovation from the crowd, and his mum meets him backstage with tears running freely down her cheeks. Harry would be lying if he said that he didn't scan the crowd for a head of caramel brown hair but he does and he's met only with a feeling of disappointment that curls deep in his belly and leaves a sick taste in his mouth.

 

That night Harry, Anne, Gemma, and Robin head out to dinner to celebrate and that night Harry doesn’t even suck his thumb once, however he does dream of blueblue eyes and the soft press of a body against his.

 

The weeks between Harry’s audition and boot camp pass agonizingly slow. Harry goes to school like regular, except he finds he can’t sit still in class anymore; all he wants is to be back onstage hearing thunderous applause from the audience.

 

-

 

At boot camp, Harry tries his hardest. He does his best to follow orders and directions and do what he’s told and he sings loud and confident even though he’s shaking in his boots. The judges don’t scold him, so he imagines for the most part that he’s done alright. But then they’re calling the boys who have made it through and as they go farther and farther down the list Harry’s name isn’t called.

 

He can’t say he’s completely surprised – he learned quickly never to assume anything. But he is a little crushed and very angry when the crew calls him back on stage. He barely wants to give the judges the time of day, assuming they’ve brought him back just to make him cry more.

 

But suddenly Simon’s speaking and there’s a window of opportunity and Harry’s surrounded by four other boys and one of them is Louis and he doesn’t want to think too quickly, to jump to conclusions but then Simon’s offering them a way back into the competition and all he can think is _yes._

 

He embraces his four new band mates and they shout excitedly in each other’s ear and make plans to get together and exchange numbers and Harry can’t help but feel a little smug because he has _Louis Tomlinson’s_ number in his phone.

 

Things are looking up.

 

-

 

It’s only a few weeks before the band – now dubbed One Direction, thanks to a late night group chat where they threw names around for two hours, Niall’s suggestions purely sexual and Louis’ filled with too many puns, before settling on Harry’s idea - is meeting up at Robin’s bungalow to spend quality time together and get to know each other before the live shows.

 

Harry’s been running around like a chicken with his head cut off, making sure that everything is ready for his friends. He’s got all the beds set up and the sofa dressed with a mountain of pillows. There are snacks in the fridge along with an array of tea and sodas and milk (Harry’s always preferred milk over soda). He’s tried to accommodate everyone’s needs; he’s carefully placed a guitar by the loveseat to make it look like it ended up their unintentionally – god forbid Harry be labeled as the try-hard before they even get to know each other - because he knows Niall knows how to play. He thinks he remembers Liam mentioning in passing that he liked football, so Harry’s got a ball by the backdoor that leads out to a set of chairs and a pool beyond that. Harry can’t recall what Zayn likes (besides smoking and bad poetry, and he figures Zayn has enough of each already), and all he remembers of Louis is his eyes and his melodic voice, so.

 

Eventually there’s nothing left to do but wait as the boys show up one by one. Niall arrives first with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a twelve pack of beer in hand. He shoves the beer into Harry’s hands and plops his duffel beside the sofa before sprawling not so gracefully onto the rug, sighing loudly.

 

“You know there’s plenty of chairs and sofas to go around, Niall,” Harry giggles, leaning against the counter. He checks the clock and wonders how long it’ll be until Louis shows up. Of course, Harry’s excited to spend time with all of the boys, but he’s been craving Louis since he got home from boot camp. He gets the sudden urge to slip his thumb into his mouth, but he’d never dare in front of Niall.

 

“Sofas are for pussies,” Niall mumbles, the right side of his face smashed against the floor. “‘m I the first one here?”

 

“Yep,” Harry replies. He lifts himself up onto one of the barstools and swings his legs back and forth, making little figure eights with his feet. “I told everyone five, but I’m guessing they’ll be fashionably late.”

 

“Well, their loss. Why don’t we get the party started?” Niall hops up and bounces over to the fridge, balancing on the balls of his feet as he searches. After a moment, he whips out two beers and uncaps them, handing one to Harry.

 

“Thanks,” Harry says, but truthfully he’s never properly drank before. He’s old enough, but he doesn’t like the way it makes his head fuzzy and his mouth all cottony. Therefore, he usually only drinks on special occasions like when his mum offers him a glass of champagne on New Year’s. But Harry decided early on that he wasn’t going to miss out on anything in this competition. And if that means he has to suck up his distaste towards alcohol, then so be it.

 

He finds it gets easier after the first bottle. By the time Liam and Zayn arrive, looking properly knackered, Harry’s loose-limbed and words roll of his tongue like syrup. The boys give him funny looks and ruffle his hair, mumbling something about him being the “baby”, but Harry’s too busy staring out the window waiting for Louis to care.

 

“Like a loyal golden retriever you are,” Zayn says, coming up from behind and patting Harry on the back. He stays and stands for a moment, looking out towards the empty road, but its gets old and he heads back to where Liam and Niall are attempting to tune Harry’s guitar.

 

Harry, however, sits long over an hour, and when he finally sees a pair of headlights in the distance, his eyes are drooping and there’s drool running down his chin. He wipes his mouth quickly and hops up, stubbing his toe on the corner of the coffee table. He stumbles his way over to the door and throws it open. Louis is still making his way towards the house, so Harry takes the opportunity and races down the walk – he’s drunk and he’s making bad decisions – and falls into Louis’ arms.

 

Louis staggers under the sudden weight drops his bags in an effort not to crash to the ground, and laughs, long and loud and clear and Harry just might pass out from happiness.

 

“Well I’m glad to know someone’s happy to see me. Sorry I’m late, mum had trouble rouding up the girls long enough to say goodbye and there was traffic.” Louis explains and he hugs Harry tight, holds on for what seems a moment too long, and lets go, leaving Harry breathless and swimming in desire.

 

Louis looks different from the last time Harry saw him. His fringe is a bit longer, more side-swept. The bags under his eyes are less defined and he looks softer. He’s wrapped up in a scarf and sweater, jeans and moccasins. He’s holding a beanie in his hand, and Harry finds that he’s disappointed he didn’t get to see it on his head.

 

Louis looks up then, and smiles. Harry’s about to smile back when he realizes that Louis’ not looking at him, rather behind him. The other boys come bounding down the steps and rush to tackle Louis to the ground, ruining his efforts of trying to stay off the pavement.

 

They all laugh and hug and exchange pleasantries while they stagger to their feet and grab Louis’ things. Harry’s not much help as he stands there dumbly, so Louis hooks their arms and guides him back up the steps.

 

The night progresses as expected: once everyone’s warmed up and comfortable, Niall hands out another round of beer. Louis requests two so he can catch up. They forgo their original plan of having a fire outside as it's much too cold and instead sit on the floor. Liam and Zayn lean against the loveseat, their legs stretched out, while Niall, Harry, and Louis sit across from them.

 

They make idle chat for a few hours, making jokes and telling stories about their families. They know this is what Simon wanted them to do: get to know each other and bond.

 

Soon, it’s well past midnight and Harry’s head is consumed in a battle between sleep and consciousness. His eyes are drooping considerably and he has to pinch himself to keep awake. The boys continue chatting; if they’ve noticed Harry dropping off, they don’t say anything. Louis spares a glance at him at one point and smiles fondly before reaching his arm around and puling Harry so that his head is resting in the juncture between Louis head and shoulder. The decision is simple then; Harry relents and closes his eyes, giving into sleep and dreams that mix with the hushed voices of his friends.

 

-

 

When Harry wakes in the morning, he’s been somewhat crammed into a twin bed in one of the three rooms. He makes to roll over and stretch his sore limbs, but he’s met with some sort of resistance. He cranes his head around and sees that he’s not alone. Louis is curled up against his back, one hand wrapped tightly around Harry’s bicep and the other tucked under his chin. He’s snoring softly and there are pillow marks on his cheek.

 

Harry’s heart beats once irregularly and a sudden warmth curls in his belly. He’s never seen something that’s made him so happy all at once. Quietly, in an attempt not to wake him, Harry settles back against Louis and watches as the sun rises in the sky and peeks through the slants in the windows. He decides to take a risk and slips his thumb in his mouth, sucking quietly and thoughtfully watching as the room grows brighter and paints him and Louis in bright shades of yellow. He hopes he gets the chance to wake up like this again in the future.

 

Suddenly, startling him enough to where his thumb falls out of his mouth with a wet pop, Harry feels a nose brush against the warm skin at the back of his neck. He tries valiantly to fight off a grin but ultimately he fails.

 

“Mm, morning Harry.” Harry feels Louis stretching his feet out and somehow they end up tangle with his own.

 

“Morning.” Harry’s voice is rough with sleep and undeniable arousal. He clears his throat quietly and turns so he’s face to face with Louis.

 

They don’t say anything; just stare at each other, drinking in soft skin and twinkling eyes. Louis blushes and for a fraction of a second his eyes focus on Harry’s lips – but maybe that’s what Harry wants to see. A long while passes – Harry’s not sure how much time – but they both jump when they hear Niall’s voice outside the door.

 

“Oi, get up, you wankers. We’re going outside. Bring your swim trunks.”

 

Louis is the first to break eye contact; he rolls on his back and looks up at the ceiling.

 

“I’m glad we’re here,” he says quietly. Harry’s not even sure he heard him right.

 

“Here at the bungalow?” He's a bit lost.

 

“Here in general, I suppose. At the bungalow, in a group, on XFactor. I’m just glad that all of this is happening.” Louis reaches out and tangles his pinky with Harry’s and Harry swears his heart is about to leap right out of his chest.

 

“Yeah,” he says softly, not wanting to disrupt the moment. “Me too.”

 

The rest of the week passes by relatively peaceful. The boys sleep until early afternoon nearly every morning (there’s one day where Liam wakes up at the crack of dawn and finds a spider in his bed and his screams are loud enough to wake the whole of Manchester). When they finally roll out of bed, they eat a quick breakfast before heading outside and wading around in the pool until they’re hungry for lunch. They mess around with the guitar for a few hours and sing medleys of their favorite songs while they lounge in the living room. They eat dinner around a campfire outside and they sit and chat and drink until they’re tipsy and too tired to hold their heads up.

The next day they repeat.

 

-

 

On Saturday, the boys’ last day before they’re due to leave, they’re heading inside to go to sleep. As per usual, they share a brief group hug before parting ways. Liam ruffles Niall’s hair before heading off to the bathroom, where he dutifully brushes his teeth whereas none of the others even bother. Zayn kisses the top of Harry’s head before he goes into one of the spare rooms and falls face first onto the mattress. Niall pats Louis on the back before heading over to the couch and flipping on the TV, letting the soft mumbles of an infomercial lull him to sleep. Louis and Harry share a fond look before heading into the master bedroom.

 

It’s been like that the entire week. Harry remembers wishing that he could wake up to Louis every morning, and now, six days later, he’s afraid of what’ll happen when Louis leaves tomorrow. He knows it’s only a week before they’ll be together again at the XFactor house, but a week is a long time without his blue eyed boy.

 

When they enter the room, Harry heads straight for the bed and barely has time to pull the covers over himself before he’s falling asleep. He distantly thinks he hears Louis shuffle in beside him, hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder and kissing the skin right behind his ear. It’s the nicest way Harry’s ever fallen asleep.

 

-

 

When Harry wakes up, he knows something is off. The room is still dark and he still feels just as tired as before he went to bed. He looks around and realizes Louis’ shaking him awake.

 

“C’mon, love.” Louis gives no explanation, but simply heaves Harry out of bed, grabs his hand, and guides him to the back door. Harry would question it, but at this point he’d follow Louis to the ends of the earth, so he doesn’t.

 

Louis leads them blindly towards the pool. They trip over a crack in the pavement and Louis has to slap a hand over Harry’s mouth to quiet his loud, barking laughter. Harry can’t tell if he’s still drunk or just overtired, but the whole affair strikes him as quite funny.

 

“Take your clothes off,” Louis slurs in his ear. Harry raises a brow, stares at the boy in front of him.

 

“Excuse me?” He whispers.

 

“Not like that, you fool. Wanna swim.” To prove his point, Louis lifts his shirt over his head and starts wiggling out of his sweats. He waddles over to the pool, shakes his pants off his legs, and turns back to Harry.

 

“Well? Are you coming?” He waggles his eyebrows, cocks his hip out.

 

Harry’s voice gets stuck in his throat. He openly gapes at Louis' body. Soft expanses of skin, a tiny waist, a pouch of skin around his tummy, his bum. He stares way too long at how his Calvin Klein’s stretch tightly over his behind. Harry can feel butterflies in his abdomen, can feel his breath quickening. He knows he’s been staring too long, knows Louis is waiting for him to supply a witty comeback, but he’s stuck. He’s floating.

 

“You’re hopeless, Harry Styles,” Louis says, and if he noticed Harry staring (how could he not?), then he doesn’t mention it.

 

Louis gives him one more pointed look before turning back around and diving into the pool.

 

It takes Harry about two seconds to recover before he’s hurriedly stripping down to his underwear and jumping in the freezing water without a second thought. _To the ends of the earth_ , he thinks.

 

“Christ.” Harry shivers, wraps his arms around himself. Louis laughs behind him and he turns.

 

“Cold?” Louis paddles closer, so his toes hit Harry’s.

 

“Freezing.” It’s not Harry’s most eloquent moment, but he’s cold and Louis is standing right in front of him.

 

Louis smiles shyly (did _I_ make that happen? Harry wonders briefly), and steps closer until his arms are wrapped around Harry and rubbing up and down, in an attempt to warm him up.

 

Harry fights back a whimper and instead hides his face in Louis’ neck, breathing in the scent of warm vanilla sugar body scrub (its Harry’s, but Louis has been using it all week).

 

They stand like that for a short while until Louis pulls away and grins.

 

“What is it?” Harry asks wearily.

 

“Give me a piggy-back ride,” Louis requests, shifting around until he’s behind Harry. He hoists himself up and wraps his legs around Harry’s middle. He takes bunches of Harry’s hair in both hands and yanks them as if they’re reigns. "Giddy up."

 

“‘M not a horse, Lou,” Harry grumbles, but secretly he loves it. He holds onto Louis’s legs and begins walking the perimeter of the pool. They last about three circuits before Louis speaks up.

 

“Haz, what do you want to be when you grow up?” He’s given up the reigns in favor of twirling Harry’s hair around his fingers.

 

“Isn’t that kind of obvious?” Harry frowns, absently rubs circles into the bone of Louis’ ankle.

 

Louis reaches around and pinches Harry’s cheek between his fingers. “No, that’s not what I mean,” he says, exasperated. “I mean, like, what do you want to be known as when you grow up?”

 

“I’m not sure I’m following you, Lou.” Harry strokes a finger over Louis’ toes, making him squirm.

 

“Like, I want to be known as that guy who made everyone laugh. I want to go down in history as the boy who enjoyed life and made people happy.” Louis leans forward so his head is resting on Harry’s bare shoulder.

 

“Hm.” Harry’s quiet as he thinks. “I suppose I want to be known as the boy who was nice. I don't like the thought of anyone thinking I was ever mean to them.”

 

Expecting Louis to laugh, Harry’s surprised when he hums an agreement. “I like that, Haz.” He taps Harry’s bicep once as a signal to let him down. Harry lets go of his legs and waits until Louis’ come around to face him straight on.

 

They stare at each other, and it reminds Harry of the morning they first woke up together. There’s something there that they aren’t saying, but it’s palpable. It creeps into Harry’s mouth and stings his eyes. It pools in his belly and it coats his lips. It curls around his head and lights his nerve endings on fire.

 

Louis, as if unconsciously, walks forward until his face is inches away from Harry. Their faces are illuminated by the pool lights that reflect off of the murky water. The water casts ripples across their bodies and Harry’s dizzy with it, dizzy with desire.

 

“Lou,” he whispers, and Harry’s never been so nervous.

 

Louis shakes his head, but it’s not disapprovingly. He leans forward and brushes his lips on the corner of Harry’s mouth, moves down and licks a hot strip up his neck before biting down and nipping at the skin. He sucks there for a minute, bites and nibbles and nips until Harry’s grown uncomfortably hard.

 

As soon as it’s started it’s over. Louis pulls back; long enough to admire his handiwork, before pulling Harry back in for a hug and whispering fiercely into his ear, “ _mine_.”

 

After they collect their clothes and dry off, they head inside and promptly fall asleep, limbs tangled and breathe mingling.

 

-

 

The next morning – way too early if you ask Harry – the boys are gathering their things and waiting for the inevitable arrival of their parents. There’s a sad sort of calm that’s spread over the house. Niall isn’t shouting for someone to bring him another bag of crisps, Liam and Zayn aren’t laughing when Liam tries to play the guitar and ends up snapping a string. Louis isn’t pirouetting across the slippery floors in his socks and trying to coerce Harry into dancing with him (Harry always does).

 

When they’d woken up, Harry had expected something to be different. After all, Louis had given Harry a hickey last night, and that wasn’t what ‘just friends’ did. However, being what his sister would lovingly call ‘a scaredy-cat’, Harry didn’t bring it up.

 

Louis didn’t either.

 

So they continued on like normal. If Louis wasn’t as handsy as he’d been before last night, Harry chalked it up to him sulking.

 

“Got the last of it?” Harry knocks lightly on the doorframe, startling Zayn who’s bent over his suitcase.

 

“Just about.” Zayn straightens up, crossing his arms and meeting Harry’s gaze. “It’s gonna be weird going back home after all this. Like, I never expected I'd be so close with you guys.”

 

Harry couldn’t agree more. The past week had been more than he’d ever expected; he didn’t ever imagine that they’d form such a close bond in such a short amount of time.

 

“Yeah.” Harry picks at a loose thread on his jumper, trying to hide the fact that his hands are shaking. “But we’ll be at the Simon's house in a week, so. It won’t be too long.” He chances looking up at Zayn’s expression. He’s looking at Harry with a curious expression, not judgmental, but concerned.

 

He opens his arms. “One last hug?”

 

Harry knows that showing affection isn’t Zayn’s strong suit, so he appreciates the gesture. He burrows his face into Zayn’s chest and tries not to cry onto his shirt. They stand like that for a few minutes, until Zayn’s had enough and pushes him back gently.

 

“We’ll see each other in a week.” He says it firmly. Harry sniffs and nods furiously.

 

“Of course.”

 

Later, Harry wanders around the house looking for Louis. He doesn’t ask any of the other boys, but eventually Liam comes up behind him and gestures to the pool, rubs his back and gently pushes him forward. Harry opens the slider gently, soundlessly, and Louis doesn’t look up from where Harry can now see him. He’s sitting at the edge of the pool, pants rolled up around his ankles and feet gliding across the water.

 

Harry sits down beside him and Louis lets out a small squeak of surprise.

 

“Hey.” Harry nudges him with his shoulder.

 

“Hey yourself,” Louis murmurs.

 

They sit quietly for a moment before Louis shuffles closer and wraps his arm around Harry. Harry instinctively leans his head against Louis’ shoulder and closes his eyes.

 

“Everyone keeps saying that everything’s gonna be different from now on. I don’t know if I’m ready for that.” Louis tightens his grip on Harry’s shoulder.

 

“Well maybe they’re not wrong. But it’ll be a good kind of different.” Harry’s just as unsure as Louis, but he figures that when one of them is down, the other should at least to pretend to be brave.

 

“I hope so,” Louis sighs. He grabs Harry’s hand and hooks their pinkies together. “I really hope so.”

 

-

 

On Wednesday, when Harry’s lounging around on the couch texting Louis’ a picture of his cat where she’s curled up on his belly, Gemma comes into the room and flops down on his legs.

 

“Move over you oaf,” she says and promptly shoves his feet off the coach. Fluff meows angrily and hops off his lap, choosing instead to curl up on the unoccupied armchair. Harry flounders for a moment before righting himself and curling up into a ball at the end of the couch.

 

“Thanks,” Harry mumbles, sending off the text.

 

“Louis?” Gemma asks. The knowing smirk on her face is enough to make Harry shiver.

 

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” He fires back. Typical sixteen-year-old response; Harry wants to smack himself.

 

“Oh nothing. It’s cute how close you two are.” She giggles to herself and reaches across to snatch Harry’s phone out of his hands.

 

“Heyy,” he drags out, clutching at his phone and holding it to his chest. “‘s private stuff.”

 

“Fine, fine. I didn’t come over here to bully you anyway. Just wanted to see you before you’re off living your fancy new life, Mr. Popstar.” She scootches closer and scratches his hair. Harry’s eyes roll back in his head a little.

 

“You freak,” she laughs and pokes his side. “So tell me – and be honest – are you nervous?”

 

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. “A little, I guess.”

 

“H, please, you’re my baby brother. I can tell when you’re lying.” Gemma wiggles her toes against his leg.

 

“I know, I know. And I am nervous, but I just feel like I’m not supposed to be, you know? Like, everything that’s happened so far is great, so why am I nervous?” Harry babbles.

 

“Well, it’s not all gonna be fun and games, right? You’ll have to work hard and there’s always a chance that you’ll be sent home. It sucks, but it’s reality. It’s only natural that you’re nervous.” Harry sighs and rests his head on her shoulder.

 

“I just want you to remember one thing while you’re gone.” Gemma pauses and Harry nods his head. “No matter if you come back a winner or a loser, we’re still going to be so proud of you, H. You’ll have done your best and we’ll still love you. Even if it’s just because we’re your family and we have to.” At that Harry laughs, and the tension that’s been building in his chest is gone, if for a moment.

 

“Thanks, Gems. I appreciate the pep talk.” He turns to properly face her and they share a hug.

 

“Yeah, well, it’s the only one you’re gonna get, so. Remember it always.” She laughs and kisses his cheek before getting up and patting his calf. Harry’s phone buzzes in his lap.

 

“Tell Louis I said hi,” Gemma snickers, and then she’s gone.

 

Harry blushes.

 

-

 

“You have everything you need?” Anne asks for the millionth time since they’ve gotten in the car. As if that mattered as they were now almost at the airport.

 

It's six in the morning, the sky still dabbled with grey. The sun's barely peaking out from the heavy clouds that lay nestled over the city. Harry always liked this time of day, when it’s so early in the morning that everyone is just waking up and there’s still a hush over the town.

 

“Mum, you’re worrying to much. I’ll be fine, yeah?” Harry knows she means well, but seeing as he’s nervous too, it doesn’t help when she’s fretting over him like this.

 

“Just let a mother take care of her baby for a moment, alright? I won’t get to see you for a little while; I want to make sure you’ll be taken care of while you’re gone.” Her eyes flicker between the him and the road.

 

At that Harry’s heart gives a little lurch, because now that he’s leaving and Gemma’s gone back to Uni, the house will be almost empty. Robin will be around, but he works during the week and Harry knows how his mum gets when she doesn’t have anything to do.

 

“You know you can call me whenever mum, I’ll always be up for a chat. You don’t have to miss me too much, okay?” He reaches across the middle console and gives her shoulder a squeeze. She smiles.

 

“You always cared more about everyone else than yourself, darling. But don’t worry about me. This is about you now; it’s your time to shine. I know that whatever happens, you’re destined for great things. This is only the beginning for you, I just know it,” Anne sniffles and swipes away a stray tear. Harry’s lip wobbles, but he wills himself to stay strong.

 

“I love you, mum.” His voice cracks a bit at the end.

 

“And I love you, Harry.”

 

Before Harry's plane arrives, he hugs his mum for what feels like ages, but it's still not long enough. He pulls back reluctently and promises to call when he's landed. Leaving his mum at the gate as he boards his plane is scary, but Harry’s confident that she’ll be fine. He manages to hold back the tears until he’s safely buckled and the plane’s wheels are no longer touching the ground. Then he promptly buries his face in his sweatshirt and cries himself to sleep.

 

-

 

Judges house is the most stressful time of Harry’s young life. The boys spend all their free time practicing, perfecting their song until they could recite their harmonies in their sleep.

 

During part of their rare down time, while Zayn, Louis, and Niall have all gone out in search of fast food (“for the love of God, I can’t stand anymore of this healthy crap”), Harry sneaks into Liam’s room. Liam’s sitting on his bed, propped up against the pillows and tapping away at his phone.

 

“Hey, H,” Liam says after a moment. He presses one final button on his phone before shutting it off and setting it on the nightstand. That’s the thing Harry likes best about Liam; he’s always willing to focus all his attention on one thing. “What do you need?”

 

“’m bored,” Harry groans, flopping down on the pillows, nuzzling his face into his Liam’s thigh.

 

“Well, Louis will be back soon so I imagine you won’t have to wait much longer,” he laughs.

 

“Why’s it always about Louis?” He lifts his face until he can look at Liam.

 

“C’mon Harry, we know you’re always happier when he’s around. You want attention, and he gives it to you. It’s not hard to see, mate.” Liam doesn’t sound offended, he sounds like he’s stating a basic fact, like the weather or the time.

 

“That doesn’t mean you can’t try to cheer me up, Li.” Harry purposely avoids answering the question.

 

“Alright, well. What do you wanna talk about?” Liam puts his hands together, aligns the tips of his fingers so it looks like he’s praying.

 

“Who’re you texting?” It’s the first thing Harry can think of.

 

“Just my sisters; they’ve been asking how everything’s been going, but it’s hard to find the time to get back to them.”

 

“Do you miss them?” Harry asks.

 

“Well, they were already out of the house when I was at home, so it’s not like I saw them all that often. But it’s different now, being here. At least then I had the option of taking the train down to visit them. Now we’re busy doing all this.” He waves his hands broadly, gesturing around them.

 

“I bet they’re really proud of you, for auditioning again and all.”

 

“Yeah, I guess they are,” Liam says thoughtfully. “After I got sent home the first time, I was a bit defeated for...obvious reasons.” He laughs. “But my sister’s kept telling me that I’d never be happy doing anything else, that I needed to go for it again. And here I am.” He smiles.

 

“Back again with four new friends,” Harry adds, and they both smile.

 

“Do you think we really have a chance?” Liam asks, seriousness coloring his tone.

 

“I think our chances are as good as anyone else’s.” Harry’s not superstitious, but he doesn’t want to jinx it for them. This is one of the most important stages in the competition; it determines everything else.

 

“Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I didn’t make it through the first time. That I was, like, supposed to be here, with you lot. That this chance means more than it did before. That’s not crazy, is it?” Liam sounds timid, like if he spoke too loudly it would mess up what they have going.

 

“No, I don’t think it’s crazy,” Harry says firmly. “I don’t think it’s crazy at all.”

 

(And maybe it isn’t too crazy, because the next day they sing for Simon and they’re smiling the entire time and when Simon says yes it feels like another piece of the puzzle has fallen into place, that they’re one step higher on the ladder to winning the whole damn competition. But Harry is determined not to get too far ahead of himself.)

 

-

 

The XFactor house feels like the closest thing to home away from home. When Harry arrives he’s met with the giddy faces of his fellow band members, and as he’s ushered to his room he passes the rooms of the other contestants, they wave to him like they’ve known him for years, and it feels nice.

 

One Direction doesn’t get the biggest room, not by far, but they’re set up in a secluded corner of the house and it’s nothing if not quaint. The room has a window that looks out onto sprawling fields and two sets of bunk beds. There’s one twin bed and they all rock-paper-scissors for it. Liam ends up winning, even though Louis’ insists he cheated, and the rest of them wrestle each other to the ground to decide who gets stuck with a top bunk. Niall argues that Louis and Harry will probably end up sleeping in the same bed anyway, so Louis relents and lets Niall have the bottom bunk, while Harry is trying to hide the blush that colors his cheeks.

 

During their debacle, Bell Amie poke their heads through the doors and the boys welcome them in and they end up spending the night playing a lousy, sober game of truth or dare (the game is disbanded after Zayn is dared to slide down the staircase on a mattress and ends up cracking the wood on part of the banister).

 

-

 

Louis catches Harry sucking his thumb. It’s the morning before their first performance as a group and Harry, well, he’s a little nervous because this is big. And if he wasn’t a complete wreck earlier he is now because he tried calling his mom and he tried calling Gem but they wouldn’t answer and Harry’s always had them around but now he doesn’t know what to do. So he does what he did when he was little; he finds a small corner – in this case the shadowy gap between the wall and the couch – and he curls his knees up to his chest and he sticks his thumb in his mouth and uses his free hand to hold onto Princess’ tail and he repeats a mantra in his head. _It’ll be fine you’ll be fine we’ll be fine it’ll be fine you’ll be fine we’ll be fine it’llbefineyou’llbefine._

And it does sort of work to calm him down until he hears the soft press of feet against the wood floor and suddenly Harry is looking up into _blueblue_ eyes.

 

“Oh Haz,” Louis says sympathetically and sinks down to the floor so he’s sitting in front of him.

 

Harry notes that his thumb is still in his mouth and he rips it out, furiously scrubbing at the tears on his face. He hadn’t even realized he was crying.

 

“ _Lou_ ,” Harry sobs brokenly. “I’m sorry I was just nervous I thought no one was here I’m fine it’s okay I’m-“

 

But Louis is hushing him, effectively cutting him off by gathering Harry up in his arms and using an impressive amount of strength to lift him out of the corner he’s shoved himself into and leading them into their shared room and onto one of the bunk beds.

 

Harry tries to explain himself, tries to tell Louis that he’s not a weak link, that he wouldn’t dream of cracking under the pressure, but Louis stops him each time and simply holds him in his arms and whispers in his ear.

 

And thankfully, it works. Harry’s had a thing for being held tight; it makes him feel safer, more comfortable. Louis rubs circles on his tummy and Harry can’t help but let out a whine. He snuggles back against Louis, trying to get closer. He wants to be so close so that there aren’t any sharp edges; Harry wants blurred lines and endless limbs and he wants to squish himself until he’s apart of Louis and they become one person.

 

Louis seems to get it. He holds Harry impossibly tighter and wordlessly tells him it’s okay.

 

-

 

Their first performance is like nothing they’ve ever experienced. The crowd is huge and more responsive than even their auditions. Viva la Vida, Harry thinks, is the best way to start off the live shows. Their voices sound better when they echo throughout a packed theater and the judges shower them with compliments. When they stand together after their performance listening to the judges’ feedback, Louis reaches behind Harry and links their pinkies. Harry wears a huge grin and if he misses what Simon has to say because he’s too busy lost in his own mind, then oh well. He can just watch it back later.

 

All the excitement over the first night makes Harry forget that they also have to survive the elimination round. The next night has him drumming his fingers nervously against his thigh as they call out the names of those who are safe. It’s getting dangerously close to the final two before their name is called, loud and clear by the host, and they’re ushered over to the corner where the finalists are waiting with congratulations. This is only one elimination out of many more, but for now it feels like a huge milestone.

 

-

 

The weeks pass by blindingly fast, each one quicker than the one before. They’re working hard now, the idea that they’ve developed a bit of a following tickling the back of their brains. Every time they step outside now there are fans waiting outside, clinging to the gate and begging for autographs and pictures. The first time Harry sees a girl in tears, he’s dumbstruck. Someone’s crying over _them?_ The idea is completely foreign to him, but he does his best to please them all and each night before bed his hands aches.

 

The judges almost always give them good feedback. Their voices are growing stronger and each new song they perform sounds better than the last. They’ve been making video diaries and people are actually watching them, laughing at them, enjoying them. Each week when another contestant is about to be eliminated their hearts stop, and when they’re declared safe they feel on top of the world. It seems almost too good to be true.

 

-

 

It’s week six, and Harry’s downstairs in the kitchen making tea when Louis walks in.

 

“ _I know you love me, I know you care, just shout whenever, and I’ll be there,”_ Louis sings. He comes up behind Harry, wraps his arms around his waist and hooks his chin over Harry’s shoulder.

 

“Not that song, please. Any other song,” Harry begs, leaning back into his touch.

 

“ _You want my love, you want my heart, and we will never, ever, ever be apart,_ ” he sings even louder.

 

“Lou,” Harry whines. He twists his body around so they’re face to face.

 

“ _Are we an item, girl quit playing; we’re just friends, what are you saying, said there’s another lo -_ ” he’s cut off when Harry suddenly attacks him, tickling his ribcage poking his sides.

 

“Harry, _harryharryharry stop_ ,” Louis laughs, giggling and trying to fend off any more of his advances by swatting at Harry’s hands.

 

“Stop... singing... then,” Harry laughs, breathless.

 

“Never insult the Biebs,” Louis mocks, but he stops (for now).

 

“Don’t lie,” the older boy continues. “You love my singing.”

 

“I never said I didn’t,” Harry counters. “I just prefer my music to be a little more sophisticated.”

 

At that Louis lets out a loud bark of laughter. “Your music taste is _far_ from sophisticated. You have to let me take you to a concert sometime, show you what a real tune sounds like. I’ve seen your iPod, Styles. It’s a mother’s worst nightmare.” Louis kicks at Harry’s bare toes with his own socked feet.

 

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “Now you’re just being mean.”

 

“Fine, fine. You get points because you like The Script, but the Phantom of the Opera show tunes need to be put to rest.” Louis’ hands tap an uneven rhythm on the bone of Harry’s elbow.

 

“You know, you’re opinion doesn’t always have to be the right one.” Harry’s hands are still resting on Louis’ lower back; he rubs the pads of his fingers over the knobs in his spine.

 

“But somehow, it always is.” They’re smiling like idiots now, staring at each other with undeniable heart eyes.

 

At this point, Harry knows in his bones that their relationship is far from platonic. He knows that what they have is different from what they have with the rest of the boys. He still remembers that night at the bungalow, when Louis gave him a love bight. They never discussed it after, but it’s always been there in the back of his mind. It’s like the tension has been building, heightening their senses. So, it seems only natural when Louis leans forward and stops when he’s just shy of hitting Harry’s lips.

 

“’M gonna kiss you now, okay?” He asks. There’s no question; Harry nods.

 

“Mm, but you have to tell me you want it, first.” Louis bumps their noses. Harry mewls. “Don’t want you to regret it later.”

 

“I promise I want it,” Harry whispers, face split into a grin.

 

“What’s the magic word?” Louis moves to peck the corner of Harry’s mouth.

 

And that’s it for Harry, he’s gone, lost somewhere where time doesn’t exists and all he needs is Louis’ mouth on his for eternity.

 

“Please,” he pleads, voice cracking.

 

At that Louis nods and complies, and then they’re kissing. Harry’s never kissed too many people, but they’ve all been girls. He’s surprised to find that Louis’ lips are softer than Sarah’s, plumper than Cara’s. There’s a bit of stubble on his jaw that Harry knows will be gone before the next live show, but it feels nice rubbing against his own smooth skin.

 

Louis reaches up and grips strands of Harry’s hair in his hands, uses it to twist his head this way and that and deepen the kiss. They’re using their tongues now, licking hot into each other’s mouths. Harry takes a chance and reaches down to grab handfuls of Louis’ bum, kneading it in his hands and pulling him impossibly closer.

 

They hear the front door opening.

 

“ _Fuck,_ ” Louis spits out. He pulls away, breathing hard, lips swollen and pupils dilated.

 

Harry’s heart is beating wildly out of control, but he feels like he could fly.

 

-

 

The first time Harry gets off thinking of Louis, he cries. He’s already got two fingers of his left hand inside himself and a tight right fist around his cock before he realizes that he’s been imagining Louis’ hands instead of his. He comes with a loud cry and he collapses in on himself, covered in his own mess, his mind clouded with guilt. He knows that they’ve kissed, but he thinks that this may be progressing a little too quickly, and he lies there for a long while contemplating life and wondering how awful it would be if Louis walked in on him like this.

 

As if someone wants to play a cruel joke on him, he hears someone coming down the hall towards their room and Harry has just enough time to launch himself under the covers and pretend to be asleep before the door opens.

 

“Harry?” Louis whispers, making his way over to Harry’s bed. He rolls Harry gently onto his side and scoots in next to him, thankfully on top of the covers. If Louis can feel the outline of Harry naked underneath the sheets, he doesn’t make to scoot away. The whole band is used to him sleeping naked at this point.

 

“Sweet boy.” Louis cards his fingers through Harry’s hair, smoothing out the knots and twisting the curls between his fingers. Harry resists the urge to push back against him, to suffocate in his warmth. Instead, he settles for trying to calm his breathing and keep still. It works, too, because within minutes Harry is really asleep and he’s never felt safer.

 

-

 

Week nine they get to go to their hometowns and perform a small set. They visit everywhere except Mullingar, due to the bad weather. Niall’s disappointed but they do their best to cheer him up with hugs and snuggles. When they arrive in Manchester for their show, Harry is appalled at just how many people show up to hear them sing. He sees friends from school and teachers and shop workers and complete strangers and his family and he’s never been so proud to perform for them. They don’t stay long, but the taste of home is just what Harry needs to lift his spirits and get him excited for the finals.

 

The house gets quieter as everyone leaves, and soon it’s just One Direction, Rebecca Ferguson, and Matt Cardle. The tension is thick but they try not to let it get to them; instead they enjoy their last few days in the competition and when they’re onstage and singing with Robbie Williams, it hits Harry that they have a real shot at winning. If they weren’t destined to do great things, why does it feel so right when they’re all onstage together, singing their hearts out and giving it their all?

 

That night they’re high off endorphins. They recall different moments on stage, describe how awesome it felt, laugh about how crazy it is that they just sang with one of their idols. It almost distracts Harry from the fact that the next night will determine the outcome of their future. Almost.

 

-

 

Harry throws up twice before the final live show. Louis rubs his back and tries to tell him everything will be fine, but it doesn’t help calm the trembling in his hands and the steady thump of his racing heart. The boys huddle together before they’re called onstage and say a little prayer. None of them are too religious but it’s all they can think to do.

 

-

 

They don’t win. It’s not like they were ever a shoe-in either, but Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting their name to be called as the winners. The worst part isn’t even the let-down of coming in third, it’s the fact that they have to stand on stage and tell the entire world that no really, it’s okay, we’re not stopping here, this isn’t the end. It’s all bullshit and Harry has to duck his head and pinch his nose to keep from breaking down right there. He can feel Louis looking at him, can feel the gaze of the judges, but he doesn’t look up. He stares down at his shoes and scuffs them along the stage. It hits him that this is the last time that they’ll stand here as a group in the competition and he chokes back a sob.

 

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his back and he’s been lead off the stage and back to where the crew is waiting with more cameras. He hears Zayn mumble something like _fuck off for a minute, would you_ and Liam is hushing him and Louis waves off Niall's concerns for Harry and leads the younger boy to a secluded corner.

 

“Hey, love, come here,” Louis whispers and Harry reaches out blindly and crushes himself to Louis. The cries he’s been holding in are let loose like a damn breaking, and he allows himself to let it all out. It’s Louis, he’s with Louis, and he’s safe. He sobs into Louis shirt for what feels like hours, and all Louis does is rock him back and forth, kissing his head and petting his hair and whispering sweet nothings to him. Harry feels broken inside, like a part of his life is ending and he’s lost without it. It’s like he’s been pulled back down to Earth, the force of gravity holding him down and choking him.

 

When he’s finally calmed down enough to where he’s just sniffling and hiccupping, Louis pulls away and holds Harry at arm’s length.

  
“This doesn’t mean it’s the end, got that? Nothings different just because we didn’t win. We knew going in it wasn’t set in stone, yeah?” He holds Harry’s chin between his fingers.

 

Harry nods through his tears and Louis closes the distance between them and kisses him, hard. It’s not like the other brief kisses they’ve share; it’s desperate and needy and hot. It’s Louis’ way of telling him _we’re fine we’ll be fine i won’t leave you_ and Harry’s way of answering _i know i know i know i love you i know._

 

They clutch onto each other, the taste of Harry’s tears mingling on their lips. Louis pulls away and whispers in Harry’s ear, “lets get back to the house first,” and Harry simply nods and allows himself to be dragged out to the car where Matt and Rebecca and the boys are piling in.

 

No one says anything about their absence; the car is quiet and subdued. Niall sits between Zayn and Liam who both have their hands resting on either one of his thighs. Harry and Louis sit in the back, their hands linked and bodies pressed together. Rebecca and Matt have squeezed up in the front and though it should be awkward, it’s not. If anything, it’s only sad because Harry knows that they’re all too nice to be jealous. Someone is still crying but it’s hard to tell who. Harry rests his head against the side of the car and stares out the window. There’s not much to see, it’s dark and it’s raining. They pass the occasional street lamp but otherwise it’s all shadows and secrets.

 

When they pull up to the house, everyone piles out of the car. Matt insists that they all spend their last night together. They all agree quite easily, though the tear stains on Rebecca’s cheeks and the bags under Liam’s eyes might say otherwise.

 

“Louis...” Harry begins, knowing that they have other business to finish.

 

Louis waves him off and steps up to Zayn and whispers in his ear. Zayn looks between Harry and Louis, brows raised, but he nods anyway and gives them a smirk.

 

“C’mon, we’re in the clear,” Louis whispers and this time it’s Harry who grabs Louis’ wrist and drags him up the stairs to their room.

 

As soon as the door is closed Harry’s on top of Louis, grabbing at him anywhere he can reach and clutching on for dear life. Their lips mold and slide together, teeth clanking and tongues battling. Louis lets out a growl and moves down to Harry’s neck where he nibbles and sucks at the skin until Harry is panting and canting his hips into Louis’.

 

“Someone’s eager,” Louis whispers against Harry’s lips, pushing them backwards until they fall onto someone’s bed. Harry distantly think it’s Liam’s, and how hilarious would it be if he ever found out that his bed was violated.

 

Harry reaches down between them and grabs at Louis’, palms him through his trousers until his hand is smacked away.

 

“Not this time, Haz,” Louis winds their fingers together. “Tonight’s gonna be about you, got it?”

 

Harry’s eyes flutter at the prospect, but he’s brought back when Louis whispers, “up you go” in his ear and lifts him up so he can unbutton and slide his shirt off.

 

“Trousers next?” Harry asks like a hopeful child.

 

Louis smiles and laughs. “You are like no one I’ve ever met, Harry Styles.”

 

After they’ve both stripped down, and Harry’s taken the appropriate amount of time to ogle and grab a handful of Louis’ bum, Louis surprises them both by fisting both boy’s erections in his hand. This is the farthest they'll have ever gone. With so many people coming in and out of the house at all hours, it was hard to find a quiet moment where they could do more than kiss and palm each other in the bathroom. 

 

“Lou,” Harry cries out. “You can’t just do things like that without any warning.”

 

“You have to be quiet, love,” the older boy whispers, biting at the shell of Harry’s ear. “Everyone’s downstairs; wouldn’t want them to hear you.”

 

Harry nods in agreement and throws an arm over his mouth, biting down on the skin in an effort to be quiet for Louis.

 

For a few minutes, the slick slide of Louis’ hand is the only sound in the room. He pulls them both closer and closer to the edge until Harry’s clawing at Louis’ back and begging him to stop.

 

“Tell me what you want,” Louis whispers in his ear, and Harry shivers.

 

“Want – need you to fuck me,” Harry whines, hands itching to touch himself. He arches his back and his toes curl with want. There are tears prickling at his eyes, anticipation blooming in his belly.

 

“You gonna be my good boy, Haz? Be a good boy for me?” Harry cries out at that, a blurt of precome bubbling over the top of his cock.

  
Louis stops, stares down at him. “Is that a thing for you? You like being taken care of?” He asks conversationally.

 

Harry blushes, embarrassed, but he nods.

 

“You wanna be my baby, H? Is that it?” It’s dirty now, there’s a hint of teasing behind his voice. Louis reaches up and swipes a thumb over Harry’s cheek, ghosting over where his dimple would be, were he smiling.

 

Harry gasps, squirms underneath Louis’ gaze. “Yeah – yeah, wanna be your baby, Lou. Please.” He feels like he’s on the verge of exploding, can see fireworks light up behind his eyes.

 

“Babies listen and do what they’re told, yeah? You gonna do what you’re told?” Louis brushes his lips over the cut of Harry’s jaw. He grinds down on Harry, just enough to get him to whimper but not enough to relieve any of the pressure.

 

“Mm, yeah, ‘f course,” Harry mumbles. He wants to cry with frustration. His dick throbs.

 

“Good answer, now listen closely. Gonna use my fingers, alright? Gonna give you what you want, but I want you to suck your thumb while I do it. Can you do that for me?” Louis hand trails down Harry’s stomach, settling on his stomach.

 

Harry lets out a dry sob. He’s caught between wanting to comply and wanting to hide away in shame. This is the simplest part of himself, the most vulnerable part. Having it all laid out in the open is scary, but this is Louis.

 

As if Louis can read his mind, he whispers, “Hey, I just want you to enjoy it, yeah?” All traces of teasing are gone from his voice.

 

Harry’s heart buzzes, his ears ring with the words. He’s never felt safer. He’s never wanted to share this much of himself with anyone but Louis. He nods hesitantly, but he’s now certain this is what he wants.

 

“Good boy. My perfect baby,” Louis kisses his nose and slides down until his face is nuzzling the inside of Harry’s thighs.

 

Harry, whose thumb is now nestled in his mouth, lets out a mewl. “Lou,” he whines, pushing his hips down, seeking any sort of friction.

 

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll give you what you want, baby. You’ve been so good for me.” Louis hoists himself off the bed and he rummages through one of the suitcases on the ground, letting out a sigh when he successfully finds what he’s looking for.

 

“Gonna make this so nice, so easy for you, Haz. Gonna make it so good, just for you.” Louis uncaps the bottle of lube, drizzles a generous amount on his fingers, and bends down until he’s eye level with Harry. He taps Harry’s legs until he slides them up, knees bent.

 

Slowly, ever so slowly, Louis leans in and blows a bout of warm air over Harry. He squirms, clenches, cries out. Louis’ not even using his fingers yet and Harry’s gone, floating on some kind of blissful cloud.

 

“It’s okay, darling. Just relax,” Louis croons, smoothing his hand over Harry’s trembling thighs.

 

He rubs the lube between his fingers to warm it up, and finally, it’s happening. Louis begins with one finger, slides it in past the first knuckle, wiggles it around experimentally. Harry forgets that this is just as new for Louis as it is for him.

 

“Fuck,” Harry sobs. With his thumb in the way, it comes out more as a mumble.

 

He’s just closed his eyes when he feels a sharp smack on his bum. He bites down on his thumb to hold back his scream.

 

“Babies don’t swear, or else they get punished. Got that?” Harry nods, tears spilling freely out of his eyes now. His eyes roll back in pleasure as Louis slips in another finger, scissors him open.

 

“God, look at you. So willing. Want it so bad, don’t you?” Louis’ free hand reaches up and tweaks one of Harry’s nipples.

 

“Mm,” is all Harry can say. He can taste a bit of blood in his mouth, thinks he’s broken the skin on his thumb.

 

“Say it. Tell me how much you love it, baby,” Louis demands. When Harry doesn’t respond he smacks him again. Louis thrusting his fingers in relentlessly now, settling on a fast-paced, shallow rhythm.

 

“Love it so much, Lou. Love your fingers. Fu-“ On a particularly forceful thrust, Harry’s back arches off the bed and his mouth opens in a silent shout. “Pleasepleaseplease Lou need you now need you right now need you in me please,” Harry’s babbling now, gasping for air as his body convulses under Louis’ touch.

 

“Shh, I’ll take care of you, I promise.” To Harry’s dismay, Louis adds a third finger, fucks him open until Harry’s doing all the work, thrusting down onto his fingers and sucking his thumb so hard that the skin has pruned.

 

Finally, when Harry is sobbing and whining and his legs are shaking, Louis removes his fingers and presses a kiss to Harry’s hipbone.

 

He reaches on the floor and grabs a condom, is about to slip it on, when Harry stops him.

 

“Don’t want it,” he whispers, his voice wrecked already. “Just want you.”

 

Louis shudders, the words going straight to his cock, but he complies and drops the rubber. Instead, he goes right ahead and slicks himself up, giving himself a few tugs to relieve the pressure, and lines himself up with Harry.

 

“You sure?” He asks. Harry notes that this is the first time he’s seen Louis look anything less than certain.

 

“Want you so bad,” Harry mumbles. He goes to pull out his thumb with a slick _pop_ , but Louis stops him.

 

“Keep it in,” he says gruffly. Harry nods and plugs his mouth again.

 

The first few inches that stretch Harry open have him crying out. His body feels on fire, lit within itself, hot flames licking their way up his throat and behind his eyes. He can feel Louis everywhere, can feel every inch of where their skin meets. They’re both sweating now, panting and gasping for air as Louis bottoms out.

 

They’re still for a moment, Louis looks down in awe at where they’re connected and kisses Harry’s forehead, carding his fingers through his hair.

 

“Whenever you’re ready, H. Such a good boy for me. My baby.” Harry moans, eyes rolling back and fluttering closed.

 

“Now,” he whispers.

 

Louis wastes no time in pounding into him, pulling almost all the way out and slamming right back in on every thrust. He picks Harry’s legs up by the thighs and throws them over his shoulder, changing the angle and hitting Harry’s prostate.

 

“ _Fuckfuckfuck Louis please,”_ Harry screams out. He bites down on his thumb, furiously sucks on it so that he won’t make too much noise.

 

Louis, without faltering, raises his hand and spanks him again. “Told you –” he pants out. “No – swearing.”

 

Harry’s crying now, tears dripping off his face and getting caught in his mouth. His face feels like it is on fire and his hair is matted on his forehead. Louis is looking down at him, staring him straight in the eye and his movements are getting sloppier.

 

“So – so close, Haz. Need you to come first though, okay? Want you to touch yourself for me,” Louis’ face is flushed, a vein in his neck straining as he thrusts impossibly faster.

 

Harry moans and obliges, reaching down with his free hand and wrapping it around his cock. He drags his thumb over the slit and sobs brokenly. He tugs once, twice, three times and he’s coming so hard he sees stars. He can barely keep his eyes open but he tries his best, staring at Louis the whole time.

 

“God – fuck. So beautiful, Harry, so fucking gorgeous and you don’t even know – _ah,”_ Louis’ eyes scrunch and he spills, white hot, inside of Harry.

 

They lie stuck together for a moment, shaking as they come down. Louis reaches up, grabs Harry’s thumb and guides it down to his stomach. He swipes it over some of Harry’s come, coats it liberally, and hands it back to Harry. Without objection, Harry greedily takes it back in his mouth.

 

“My boy,” Louis whispers, smiling. Harry’s insides melt.

 

Louis pulls out gently and flops beside Harry, pulling the covers up and shrouding them in warmth.

 

“Harry.” Harry turns to Louis, eyes hooded. He thinks, belatedly, that Louis is the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen. His cheeks are tinged with pink and the shadows of his eyelashes fan across his face. His lips are raw and bitten and his eyes are the clearest blue; it reminds him of when he went to the beach as a kid and marveled at how he could see through the ocean water all the way down to the sandy floor.

 

“I love you,” he whispers out. The words hover in the air between their mouths, caressing their skin and echoing in their ears.

 

It takes Harry only a moment before he’s grinning so hard his dimples are etched deep in his skin and his lips feel like they’re about to break off. “I love you, Louis.”

 

Louis lets out a broken laugh and closes the distance between them. Harry wraps his arms and legs around Louis – like a koala, he thinks and laughs – and their noses bump as they blindly search for lips. And yeah, Harry thinks, everything’s going to be just fine.  

**Author's Note:**

> YAY! The end :) This was probably way too long, but I couldn’t help myself. I also have a bad habit of only writing the fluff parts so that's why it's so heavy with louisandharry (whoops). I'd like to thank Maria, for letting me spam you with all my drafts and not getting annoyed and for telling me to keep writing because I probably would have gotten bored if I thought I was just writing this for myself.
> 
>  
> 
> [find me on twitter](https://twitter.com/theofficeharry)


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